The age of discovery. The age of adventure. The age of explorers. And the age of pirates.
The world held a feeling of eagerness. Eager to be the explorer or to reap the benefits of their gains. Every country had a stake in traversing the unknown parts of the New World. Towns, ports, and cities flourished with the goods gained from the growing trade routes. Inland where the older, wealthy cities laid were no different. The baker boasts about his dark crusted bread, made from flour imported from India scarce two months ago. The jeweler shows his wares, charms and trinkets arrived straight from the mysterious Caribbean Islands. Cooks of old manors discuss different recipes using the strange spices from across the sea. In one such manor house, a man brags to his associates about how much wealth he'll gain from the newly opened slave trade. His young daughter, encompassed by her pink, silken dress, sits on the window sill. She sighs and stares longingly at the distant glitter on the horizon and dreams of the freedom it promises to bring.
The old cities give way to the fresher lands. Grassy hills rise to the sky; the air is scented with the ocean close by. The wind rises and falls in great gusts. The sun beats down strong and clear unbothered by the wisps of airy clouds that dot the sky. Two boys race, their young bodies limber and breathless with energy. Their hands carry makeshift swords, fashioned from wood.
"Avast ye!"
"Have at thee, you scum!"
Their high-pitched cries of battle are punctuated by the hallow tapping of their swords meeting. Excited grins stretch their faces. Arnold laughed, his blond tangle of messy hair getting riled by the wind. He swung his sword at his best friend Gerald, whose dark skin glinted with sweat across his forehead. Both boys were clad in old sailors' clothes, patched and hemmed by loving mothers' hands. Gerald caught Arnold swing with a clumsy upward thrust of his own.
"I Gerald, loyal privateer to the queen, vanquish you in the name of the queen!" Gerald cried out grandly and thrust his sword forward.
Arnold moved to catch the wooden blade under his arm and gave a loud anguish cry, clutching his chest. "Oh! I am slain! My ghost shall gain my revenge! Oh!"
With another anguished and dramatic cry, he fell back against the lush grass. His smile belied his theatrics even as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Gerald, despite not receiving a fatal wound of his own, giggled and flopped on the grass beside him. There was a pause while they both regained their breaths.
"Hey Gerald," Arnold whispered out of the side of his mouth, "wouldn't it be cool if we could be real pirates?"
"Nah, pirates are just crooks," Gerald opened one eye and regarded his best friend, "what I want to be is a privateer. Then I get to be employed by the queen herself."
"But what about the navy like your dad and Jamie-O? They're employed by the queen too."
Gerald scoffed and waved the suggestion off. "Nah. The navy's lame. All they do is take orders and stuff. Besides, they don't explore anything, they just catch pirates."
"Well I want to be an explorer like my parents," Arnold declared proudly, "They're employed by the queen too. And they get to travel the New World and go on adventures."
"Yeah, your parents are the coolest," Gerald agreed, "Too bad they don't let us go with them when they leave."
Arnold nodded. He wished more than anything to sail the seas with his parents. He was eight years old and felt more than ready to start aiding them in their journeys. Even his dad often praised him for how smart he was.
"Arrrrnooooold! Arrrrnoooold!" His name was carried over the wind, called out by a familiar, scraggly voice.
"Coming grandpa!" Arnold jumped up and secured his wooden sword in his belt. "I have to go now, Gerald. Do you want to come over for dinner?"
"No thanks, I don't want to get sick again from your grandma's cooking," Gerald teased and flopped over dead again.
Arnold only rolled his eyes before racing off barefoot down the grassy hill. A grin spread across his face as he took in deep breathes of the salty yet fresh sea air. His grandfather stood at the bottom of the hill, blinking up at the bright sunlight. Time and age may have wrinkled his skin and made the joints more prominent in his hands, but it did nothing to his strong jaw or his sharp gaze. An old, retired general, Phil was still as strong as a bull but as kind as a mare.
"Hi, grandpa!" Arnold threw his arms around his waist.
"Ah, Shortman, there you are," Grandpa Phil cackled and ruffled Arnold's blond locks, "if you keep getting shorter we might lose you in that tall grass."
"Very funny, grandpa."
Together they made their way back to the house, a cozy cottage built by Arnold's great grandfather and inherited down to his grandfather. The soft grass gave way to rough dirt road eventually stone as Arnold and his grandfather reached the front door.
"Stella! Gertie! You won't believe who I've capture off the coast of our home!" Grandpa Phil called out, "The feared pirate Arnold Shortman!"
"Oh mercy me, a pirate!? How dreadful!"
"Mom!" At the sound of his mother's voice, Arnold raced into the drawing room. Stella sat at a table, her maps and charts all spread out in front of her. She looked up with a smile at her son raced towards her.
"Careful," She laughed as her son nearly collided with the table, "the ink is still wet."
"Is this more of the New World?" Arnold's green eyes were bright and wide, "How much more is there?"
"Oh much, much more. See here?" Stella pointed at a small segment of land that was sticking out of the mostly drawn coastline, "They say that this part mostly has humid jungles, ferocious tribes, and gold."
"Gold?" Arnold echoed, his eyes growing even wider.
"Yep but even more importantly, the Fountain of Youth," His mother's eyes glittered with excitement, "They say if you find it, you can live forever."
Arnold's entire body vibrated with excitement, "Please, please, please can I go with you to find it? I'm old enough. I'm almost nine years old!"
"You're eight."
"Which is almost nine!"
Stella gave an exasperated sigh and smiled gently at her son. "One day honey, I promise."
Arnold huffed and looked down. It wasn't fair. His parents always got to have amazing adventures, see new things, and leave him behind. His mom sighed again and drew him into a hug as if she could read his mind.
"We just want to keep you safe honey."
Just then the front door opened and his father's heavy boots sounded in the front hall.
"Mom! Dad! Stell? You guys home?" Miles called out.
"Dad!" Arnold broke from his mother's embrace and ran to his father. Maybe he could plead his case with him. By the time he reached the front hall though, his father was already talking in a low voice to Grandpa Phil and Grandma Gertie.
"Already? But you two just got back," Gertie said angrily, "Get my horse ready, I'll talk to the queen myself!"
"Easy mom, the queen gave her orders. Besides Stella and I did ask for another commission," Miles sighed, "I just didn't think it'd be this soon."
Arnold's heart sank. "You're leaving again?"
Miles shifted his gaze down at his son and got on one knee to be eye level with him. His green eyes matched his son's and looked at him kindly. "I'm afraid so pal. With so much land to discover the queen wants the best out there exploring it."
"But can't I go with you this time?" Arnold asked plaintively, "You always leave me behind."
Miles's gaze shifted upwards behind Arnold and then back at him. "Next year."
Arnold gasped in joy and surprise while Stella voiced her concern from the doorway behind him. "Honey, don't you think-"
"I think he'll be ready by then," Miles stood up and playfully ruffled Arnold's hair, "Besides, I was ten when I worked on my first ship."
"You mean it, dad? You really, really mean it?" Arnold smiled excitedly.
"I sure do." Miles winked. "This will be the very last time your mother and I will leave you behind."